


(Please Tell) Marjorie I'm Sorry

by MonsieurMadeleine



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asylum, Caning, F/M, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Hallucinations, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurMadeleine/pseuds/MonsieurMadeleine
Summary: Chester has never loved anyone as much as he loved his dear Marjorie, but he just couldn't stand the idea of her leaving. And if he wasn't going to have her, nobody was.The police soon notices something is wrong with the man and they send him to Briarcliff Manor. There he must learn to deal with whatever demons are in his head. Including Marjorie. He wanted to forget her, entering his new life at Briarcliff, but of course she would never allow him to banish her from his memories.





	(Please Tell) Marjorie I'm Sorry

'I love you...' Marjorie coughs, but I am in no mood to listen. _She doesn't love you. She isn't capable of loving anyone._ There it is again; the dark voice in the back of my head. _But you love her, don't you? Yes Chester, you love her. Very much. Too much._ The dark voice softens a bit, and it's almost soothing. almost.

Then my hand sinks down, the knife clatters to the floor. Only then I come to my senses, realizing what I have done.

'Oh God...' I whimper softly, cupping her beautiful face with my bloodied hands. 'Marjorie...? Stay with me, Marjorie...!' Then I collapse onto my beloved's corpse, sobbing loudly and uncontrolably. _What have you done? What the fuck have you done Chester? You'll never find another woman. Not like Marjorie. Never like her. For fuck's sake Chester!_ I continue my miserable sobbing as I listen to the voice reprimanding me for what I've done.

 _But it's going to be alright_ , a second voice suddenly supplies. _It's going to be alright if you follow my instructions._

A short search later I find a blanket to cover Marjorie's bloody, damaged body with. If she had been alive I would've spent hours making it comfortable for her, asking her again and again whether or not she was content. But now the blanket's sole purpose is to hide her wounds from sight. Mine, specifically.

_Go to the police station and report a murder. Don't mention you know her, don't mention how much you love her. She'll watch from heaven and when you have delivered her body, she'll forgive you, looking down at your miserable existance. She'll have to. And then you can live your happy, lonely ever after._

The ride seems to go on forever, but eventually I arrive at the police station. Careful as I know how to be I carry Marjorie inside the tiny building. The raindrops fall apart on my back, almost like pointing fingers confronting me with what I did. _Don't think I have forgotten._ Thunder rolls and cars go by, but I can't manage to care about it.

Walking through the halls, I listen to the raindrops dripping onto the floor. The officers look at me dully for a moment before I say the line I have been rehearsing the whole ride.

'I would like to report a murder.' A gulp and my sight is blurred with tears.

'Whose murder?' the officer asks as he gets up.

'A young lady.' _My young lady_ , a posessive voice in my head hisses. Yes, she is mine.

They tell me to put my Marjorie down and to do it slowly. Of course I obey. Something in me forces one or two words out, but I don't get any further than that. Instead I am told to put my hands where the officer can see them. I freeze when he uncovers Marjorie in her pretty, blood-stained dress and the wounds on her chest feel like a stab in my own. Her chest, there where her beating heart once rendered her capable of loving me.

'I did it!' I cry out as I drop to my knees. 'Send me to the chair!' I sob without offering this officer time to respond.

This position on the floor also reminds me of Marjorie. She always made me worship her, and that was to be done kneeling before her perfect, apparantly fragile form. Telling her she was the perfect woman was never enough. She always made me lick between her legs. When I did a good job, she would fold her legs around my body and moan my name. She would make my name sound lovely, perfect almost. But she would always hold superiority over me in whatever way possible, and I accepted that form of authority. I was something I always felt obliged to thank her for. I would always thank her for her authority, for her beauty, for her perfection, for the pleasure she allowed me to provide her with.

_And now you shall never experience that again. You didn't just end Marjorie's life, but also a part of your own. I hope you are proud of yourself._

I manage to remain relatively calm until the call a few colleagues who prepare to take Marjorie away. I cry and shout, fighting to see her beauty one last time, but they hold me back. They move Marjorie - my Marjorie - away, leaving me sobbing on the floor in an undignified heap.

_Goodbye, Marjorie, my love._

I sob until my eyes refuse to provide me with more tears. Then I calm down, realizing only now that the cops have been watching me and my miserable display for the past fifteen minutes. To them I'm just another circus freak putting on a show. _Yes_ , the sinister voice inside of me says. _You're just another circus freak._

Slowly I get up, very aware of the murderous shimmering in my eyes.

'Are you up to something, freak?' the officer in front of me says mockingly.

'I am no freak', I answer, voice dangrously low.

***

_What the hell...? Where am I? Where is Marjorie?_

I remember being awake several times, each time in a different location. But I haven't been awake for long at any point during this journey. I only know this is some kind of jail, judging on the simplicity of this room. There is nothing that radiates any form of warmth or the feeling of home. My limbs are tied down to prevent me from running off just like I had done in Georgia.

Hours pass by before anyone comes my way. It's a nin, I directly conclude. She looks like a stern, wise woman. She introduces herself as Sister Jude. She says my horrific sins are to be punished with shock therapy. Ther prepared to electrocute me.

'Go away!' I shout, partially under the assumption that this is just a dream or a hallucination, one amongst so many others. I squirm and shout, kicking out for as far as the restraints allow me to. But I am helpless, powerless to stop those people that try to torture me.

_Oh my God... Please no... Please don't do this to me..._

Just a second later the shocks radiate through my body. I scream in pain, unable to do anything else. It has been seconds, but it feels like an eternity already. In my head chaos has overpowered everything else. _Are they going to go on forever? _Are they aiming for murder? If they are, please make them do so, but make them do so quickly.__

 

But no, the electric shocks stop. I sigh, again unable to move a limb. A headache has come up. Marjorie has disappeared from my bedside, her smile remaining before my mind's eye. Was this the light my uncle spoke of when his sickness was taking over? Maybe. I had so looked forward to touching my Marjorie one more time, to kiss her for the first time.

They force me onto my feet, but I collapse immediately: I have no more strength in my limbs. They haul me into a sort of common room where an upbeat song plays. My time at college is recalled when I recognize the French song playing.

_Dominique, nique, nique_

_S'en allait tout simplement_

_Routier, pauvre et chantant_

_En tous chemins, en tous lieux_

_Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu_

_Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu_

***

_'Chester, darling,' miss Wendy says. 'pay attention now.'  She then continues to explain French grammar, something I couldn't care less about. When will time start to tick away? Instead of paying attention I stare at her long blonde hair. The hair I'd like my future girlfriend to have._

_Hours seem to have passed before miss Wendy announces the end of the lesson. As we gather our stuff she plays the song Dominique. The song bores me awfully, but there is nothing I can do about the song. At a Christian school they play Christian music, it's as simple as that. At least this song is upbeat..._

_'Dominique, nique, nique', I sing softly to myself the second time it comes by._

***

What the...?! People are moving around, making unintelligable noises. To my left someone is occupied banging his head against the wall. I start to get dizzy: this is all too much.

_God get me out of here! I would never be able to survive in here! I won't last a single day in here... All those madmen around me... I'm not one of them!_

_Or am I?_

_Chez Dominique et ses frères,  
_

_Le pain s'en vint à manquer  
_

_Et deux anges..._

Everything goes dark all of a sudden. Luckily I barely feel how I hit the floor.

_Okay, so you've ended up in some kind of madness-filled environment. But you're not mad - not yet - so hold on to it. Come on, Chester, hold on. Dom't allow those people any form of authority over you. Just hold on to whatever sanity you have._

I awake on a couch near the center of the room. A woman sits next to me, and she speaks to herself in what I believe to be a Mexican prayer. The color of her hair reminds me of Lucy's hair, which brings tears to my eyes. Poor Lucy, murdered by my jealous lover. The lover I recently killed.

Speaking of previous lovers...

***

_'Oh darling...' I whisper. 'You are everything I ever needed,' I kiss my darling Robert as I caress him fondly._

_'We shouldn't be doing this, Ches', the fourteen-year-old boy says. 'Not like this, not with Marjorie watching.'_

_'But she has been with me for four years now. She is allowed to know everything about me. She is allowed to see everything I do. She will never harm you, sweetheart. Grandmother gave her to me on my tenth birthday. Just before my eleventh birthday she died, leaving me my beautiful girl.'_

_'But I feel uncomfortable with her watching me...'_

_'I'm uncomfortable with his ugliness', Marjorie snickers. 'I am so much more attractive, so much nicer.'_

_' Stop it Marjorie', I toss over my shoulder. Luckily Robert is too busy kissing me to notice. This is so wrong, and yet so pleasurable. His cock has already formed an impressive bulge in his trousers. This is what we've been waiting for._

_I fist his cock slowly before lying back. Our trousers are pulled off and dumped on the floor next to my bed. He is on top of me now, his cock all too eager to penetrate._

_'Chester...'  my brown-haired lover whispers, his fingers running up and down my cleft. 'I'm so afraid of hurting you.'_

_'You only hurt me if you don't fulfill the longing inside of me.'  With a smile I wet my fingers, lubing my ass carefully. When my finger moves away from my hole, his replaces it, penetrating me with his thin finger. Slowly he moves in and out, twisting his finger in the process. I moan and wrap my legs around his waist. He can't add the second finger soon enough. He is endlessly careful scissoring me open. After what seems like an eternity, he deems me ready to be penetrated. Finally I am able to give him what he had desired for the last two years: my virginity._

_I scream as we pass the point of no return._

***

This is a nightmare, I conclude, looking around myself.


End file.
